We gave you Fika, a soul made of light,
A laugh that could shatter the silence of night.
He danced through this life with fire in his stride,
A spirit so fearless, with nothing to hide.
He cracked jokes like thunder, turned sorrow to song,
Made burdens feel brief, no matter how long.
He gave without counting, expecting no praise,
A giver of warmth on the coldest of days.
We sent you a man who was golden, alive
A storm full of wonder, a thrill to survive.
But what did you do with this radiant flame?
You returned us a stranger, hollow in name.
Now silence surrounds where laughter once stayed,
His spark has dimmed, his brilliance decayed.
His eyes no longer catch light when they roam,
He speaks like a ghost who just wants to go home.
They said love would build, that vows would defend,
But instead it began a slow, bitter end.
You caged what was wild, drained all that he gave,
And left a bright soul to wither, enslaved.
Woe to the one who can’t cherish the rare,
Woe to the one who strips joy from the air.
Woe to the one who turns gold into dust,
And shatters the sacred in favor of “just.”
Woe to the prideful who smiled as they pressed
Their heel on his dreams, his soul unexpressed.
Woe to the one who clipped wings in full flight,
Who dimmed a whole sun and called it “alright.”
How cruel the hands that reshaped his fate
To smother his fire, to burden with weight.
We gave you Fika untamed, true, and free.
What you gave us back was a quiet tragedy.
—Mekdes